


Song Fic Dump-Richard and Camille

by VirginiasWolf



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:14:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28858668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VirginiasWolf/pseuds/VirginiasWolf
Summary: A place for all my song inspired one-shots.
Relationships: Camille Bordey/Richard Poole
Comments: 20
Kudos: 15





	1. Ex's and Oh's

_Ex's and the oh, oh, oh's they haunt me  
Like ghosts they want me to make 'em all  
They won't let go  
Ex's and oh's_

Richard pauses to kiss his fiancee before excusing himself from the crowd and making his way over to a nearby table where he can still watch everything as he sips a cup of tea. He isn’t upset with the swarm of attention, but his social battery does run out faster than Camille’s and she’s the one that deserves it. She’s looking particularly beautiful in a sleeveless yellow dress and she’s also wearing the engagement ring she accepted from him the previous evening. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying watching his beloved be a star.

Living on this island and loving this woman is absolutely his purpose in life. To past Richard this probably would have seemed ridiculous, living on a blighted tropical island and preparing to marry a French woman, but why should it be? Camille is intelligent and cultured enough that he can spend hours discussing art and history with her and she is also amazingly vivacious, generous and quite literally a warrior woman. Even though he’s only known her for a decade of his life, and only dated her for six of those years, he can’t imagine himself ever being happy with a woman who isn’t Camille. Although it had taken far too long to meet her, she was definitely worth waiting for.

She apparently senses that he is still watching her and turns to flash him one of her radiant, beautiful smiles. Richard returns with a smile of his own and raises his teacup in her direction.

It doesn’t take long for something to rip his attention away from bliss though. “Oh Richie, I didn’t expect to see you here!” Sylvie Carter, a deceptively lovely looking woman who Richard once took on a few dates. He can remember first seeing her in the shop in Croydon where he went for his morning tea and pastry. He’d thought she was beautiful, although he now realizes she looks quite plain compared to Camille. When she’d accepted his offer for a date he’d thought perhaps things were looking up in his life. After a few dates where she’d tried to convince him to drink his own urine and perform nude yoga to receive energy through his anal glands he’d realized she was completely insane.

“My name is…”

Before Richard can finish, Sylvie apparently decides to invite herself to join him at the table. “Such a pleasant surprise to see you. What brings you here?”

“I’m the…”

Again Sylvie cuts him off before he can finish, and this time she also reaches out and clasps his arms causing a panic to surge in his throat.

“Scenes like this always make me so lonely. Do they make you lonely?”

This time Richard is able to get a full question in. “Does what make me lonely?”

Sylvie lets go of his arms and actually grabs his face. The only person he lets touch his face is Camille, who for the record wouldn’t be treating his cheeks like her play thing. “Oh don’t feel bad about feeling bad Richie, it’s hard not to be depressed by seeing someone celebrating their engagement when you’re single, but there is hope. Surely fate brought us back together.”

This notion is terrifying enough that it’s impossible to pretend to be anything other than panicked. He needs help. He doesn’t really want Camille to help though because her first instinct would be to punch Sylvie and that would make things really awkward. No, help needs to come from Camille’s mother, who hopefully won’t also murder him. Feigning carelessness, Richard knocks his teacup to the ground where it shatters, thankfully attracting Catherine’s attention.

When the older woman arrives with a broom, he reaches out to grasp her hand in an iron grip hoping that she’ll see it as a cry for help, not an assault.

Luckily it works. “Please take your hands off my future son-in-law.”

Sylvie lets his face go and looks at him with anguish. “Richie, what is this woman talking about?”

“He hasn’t told you that he proposed to my daughter last night?” Catherine turns to scowl at him.

“No, Richie is this true?”

Richard holds up a finger to silence Sylvie while also hoping that what he is about to say will also keep Catherine from tearing his throat out. “All I was doing was sitting here trying to drink my tea and you came over and started calling me Richie, which isn’t my name. Then you decided that because you felt sad about seeing my future wife celebrating our engagement that I must be too, and didn’t let me get in a single sentence to tell you otherwise. Instead you grabbed my face and tried to tell me we were soulmates forcing me to break a teacup so I could attract the attention of my MOTHER-IN-LAW in hopes that she would save me.” Richard pauses to catch his breath before adding, “Oh and before you have any doubts about my feelings you should know that my future wife is an intelligent vivacious woman who doesn’t believe there are health benefits to drinking her own piss.”

Sylvie stands up with a huff and turns to glare at Richard. “It does have health benefits, and you’re just like every other man I’ve ever met. Oh, and your future wife is ugly!”

As she storms off, Catherine turns to look at him. “She is, I believe you would say not all there? And very rude to my daughter. How do you know her?”

Richard sighs, “If I promise to tell you later am I allowed to find Camille and leave right now?”


	2. Day O!

_Day-o, day-o_  
_Daylight come and we want go home_  
_Day, is a day, is a day, is a day, is a day, is a day-o_  
_Daylight come and we want go home_

-

Richard wants to feel sorry for Goodman. It can’t be easy being so inept at life that your DS has a dead man helping her keep you alive, but sometimes the man is just far too irritating, and he has another flaw that Richard can’t overlook. He has a crush on Camille. This isn’t inherently a flaw, Camille is a very likable woman and she deserves to have love, but she doesn’t like Goodman like that. She’s admitted that she sees him like a puppy or a helpless small child. Moreso, the way Goodman seems to like her is in a way dehumanizing. He treats her like an exotic toy doing things solely to garner the attention of a man.

Richard finds this particularly evident tonight. Camille is dancing in her mother’s bar for no deeper reason than that dancing makes her happy. Goodman is sitting at a table with Fidel, but his eyes keep going to Camille and he looks nervous, yet happy. Then suddenly the man begins to go on about how he’s not going to go back to his wife because he knows Camille is his soulmate. 

The only consolation is that Fidel looks uncomfortable too. Of course Goodman doesn’t notice this and prepares to leave for the night looking as if a weight has been lifted.

It is at this point that Richard makes a decision. It’s the most ridiculously petty thing he’s ever done and will take him away from Camille for the night, but he follows Goodman back to the shack.

Richard stands on the verandah as the other man showers obliviously inside. Goodman actually begins a conversation with Harry about how relieved he is to have finally told someone about his feelings for Camille.

Much to Richard’s surprise, the little lizard stands outside the bathroom door for a moment before turning and scuttling to the verandah to look straight at him.

“You can see me?” Harry cocks his head clearly responding to the words. “Right. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. There’s that whole thing about how animals can see ghosts. You know, Camille’s the only person who can see me, so I usually try to stick by her, although I suppose when she’s ready to move on I’ll probably have to leave. She doesn’t even like your new owner the way he likes her though...thinks he’s needy and dependent, so really I’m doing her a favor tonight.” When Harry cocks his head again, Richard adds, “Oh stop looking at me like that, I am not being petty.”

Goodman walks out of the bathroom and changes into his pajamas before looking out to the balcony where he must see Harry alone and cheerfully says, “Good night Harry. Things are finally looking up for both of us.”

“Well, he’s certainly wrong about that,” Richard states before adding, “for him I mean. I’ll make sure you get a nice big breakfast in the morning.”

Stepping back into the shack he looks around as the other man crawls into bed. The general plan is to taunt Goodman with constant whispering in his ear throughout the night, but in truth Richard has no idea if he’ll even be heard. It always works in the movies though. He supposes if that plan fails he can always toss some objects around or maybe ‘levitate’ Harry. Either way, Humphrey Goodman will not have a restful sleep tonight.

Richard approaches the bedside and leans down to make a test noise in Goodman’s ear.

“Harry, did you hear something?” Goodman sits up startled in bed.

So this will work, but now Richard has to figure out what to whisper. Perhaps a song?

The first tune that pops into his head is a tune about islands calling out to a dreamer, one of the ones Richard had tried to use to convince himself that Saint Marie might be okay when he was alive.

That won’t work at all Richard decides; Goodman will sleep like a baby and further believe the universe loves him. No, the song has to be annoying. Suddenly another tune pops into his head. He’d heard it many times in the past and today it had been playing on Dwayne’s desk radio; Harry Belafontane’s irritating little tune about rum and bananas and wanting to go home. At least that’s what Richard thinks it’s about.

He waits until Goodman lies down again before leaning close to his ear again. “ Day-o, day-o.”

Goodman shifts uncomfortably but apparently decides to attribute the noise to a bird.

“Daylight come and we want go home. Day, is a day, is a day, is a day, is a day, is a day-o.”

Goodman sits up in bed. “My God Harry, I can almost swear a man’s voice is singing Harry Belafontane right in my ear.” After a pause he asks, “Is that who the previous inspector named you after?”

Despite his intentions to remain on task, Richard can’t help but grit his teeth and growl in the other man’s ear, “He is named after Prince Harry, of the royal family.”

A quick glance at Harry the lizard reveals that he almost appears to be rolling his eyes and urging Richard to get back to the point.

Richard finishes the verse he was on before starting the next and at this point he realizes that he’s actually having fun. It may be an irritating little earworm to listen to, but singing it is an entirely different story. By the fourth verse he is actually jumping and dancing around a little as Goodman whimpers and Harry looks at him like he’s insane.

After an hour of singing, only stopping between repeats long enough for Goodman to think it might be over, Richard switches to another irritating Caribbean earworm that is apparently equally fun to sing.

Richard switches songs several times, each time growing more irritatingly jaunty. Just before dawn with Goodman lying in an exhausted ball he decides to show some mercy, he doesn’t want to kill the man after all.

Instead Richard manages to locate Goodman’s phone in the kitchen where he had put it to charge the previous night. As Richard picks up the device Harry gives him a curious look. “He’s going to have a sick day today, Harry. No work and definitely no Camille.”

_ “Won’t be in to work today. Didn’t sleep a wink. Think the shack might be haunted. Camille can be in charge.” _ The text is quickly sent in a group chat to Camille, Fidel and Dwayne and Richard goes about preparing breakfast for Harry.

A loud pained moan sounds from upstairs and Harry looks up from his plate of mangoes. 

“Fine, I’ll feed him too,” Richard sighs before pulling a box of granola cereal out of the cupboard. 

Goodman barely reacts to the bowl of floating granola as Richard floats out of the shack arriving back at Camille’s place as she is reading the text message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was going to be a scene at the end where Dwayne is on the phone with Humphrey and the latter insists the ghost sent the text message, fed Harry and made him breakfast after haunting him and Dwayne is just really concerned and jokes to Fidel "maybe it's the old Chief" while Camille has to pretend she thinks it's insane too, but it didn't feel organic.


	3. Dancin' in Circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI, this is a very M rated chapter and neither it nor the song are about dancing.

_I lay around, touch myself to pass the time_  
_I feel down, I wish you were mine_  
_I close my eyes_  
_Take a breath and I picture us in a place_  
_I can't recognize_

_-_

He hadn’t been the least bit suspicious about her errand. At least she assumes he hadn’t. Sure she usually lets him go out with her, but why would he suspect she was going to a sex shop when she told him to stay home? Camille notes with frustration that she wouldn’t even need a vibrator and a bottle of cooling lubricant if Richard would just treat her like a sexual being.

Of course they hadn’t really talked about sex when he was alive, but she doesn’t think he’s asexual. He’d certainly reacted to stimuli in the past. Now, she assumes he’s just suppressing his sexuality because he’s dead. However, she’s hoping that direct action will change that.

Camille doesn’t usually like to touch herself in the middle of the day, but she wants Richard to notice her and be too aroused to not consider taking action.

“I will be in the bedroom,” she states to the air as she enters the apartment hoping that he is around to hear.

Camille pulls her new items out of the bag before stripping off her clothes. Lying on the bed she inserts the vibrator inside herself as she closes her eyes and tries to picture his face. Even if she can’t convince him to fuck her, she can always get off by pretending he already is. At first she plays the toy in and out of herself slowly, biting her lip as she takes in the sensation of it. 

Experimentally she picks up speed as she lets out a moan and then before she can stop herself, his name.

“My God Camille, you’re…you’re.” She hadn’t expected him to arrive that quickly, but as her eyes snap open she can almost swear that he is trying to mask curiosity. 

She can’t ruin it all by feeling awkward now, so instead of acting mortified she meets his gaze. “I have sexual needs too you know.”

“But you were calling out my name.”

“Because I wish you were helping me satisfy them.”

Richard’s gaze leaves her face and trails downward. Definitely intrigued, but still not quite ready to be sold, but he’s close, really close.

“You could just watch me play with myself,” Camille smirks pushing the toy back inside of herself and shuddering involuntarily as she does.

He groans too, eyes clearly on an area that is not her face. He’s biting his lip as he watches her and she realizes that his attention is serving to make her come undone faster.

Soon it sweeps over her, leaving her slick and ragged. Finally, she convinces him to meet her eyes. “So, are you afraid of making me feel like that?”

“No Camille, I’m afraid of accidentally hurting you. I feel sensations differently than you do now, and if we were to do that how would I know if I was too rough with you?”

“Because I would tell you.” Had he really been so addled by seeing her in this position that he had forgotten this simple fact?

“Yes. Of course you would tell me. Surely you don’t want to have sex right now though?”

“I do,” Camille states with a smirk.

“My god woman, you just had one orgasm.”

“And I could always use another.” Camille shifts her body to purposely draw Richard’s attention back to her most intimate region.

“You’re insatiable,” Richard mutters, but his eyes are exactly where she wants them to be.

“Why don’t you come over here and kiss me and find out exactly how insatiable I really am?”

Finally giving in, Richard crawls onto the bed and does exactly what she had requested. It doesn’t feel like kissing is supposed to feel. His tongue is cold and slimy and normally this would be repulsive, but because it’s still Richard it isn’t. 

Still she doesn’t think she wants him to kiss her while he is inside of her, so the moment she has managed to undress him she makes a request. “Can you take me from behind? I think I would like to watch us in the mirror.”

Again, the sensation is different, but this time Camille decides it is better than it would be with a normal man. As he thrusts into her, she can feel a cool breeze washing over her body and watching them in the mirror she knows there is no more pretending, it really is Richard behind her and inside her. His moans are mingled with hers, and all is perfect.

Far too soon for her own tastes, she comes undone, muffling her scream in the comforter as she does. Richard thrusts one more time and then she feels a cool yet not unpleasant wetness inside of her as he releases himself.

As they pull apart, Camille collapses to the bed planning to simply rest silently.

Richard however is immediately worried. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, you were amazing.” Absently Camille picks up the discarded yet still buzzing vibrator. “Better than this old thing anyway.”


	4. Fix You

_ Lights will guide you home _

_ And ignite your bones _

_ And I will try to fix you _

-

Camille Bordey is indestructible. Not in the sense that she believes foolishly that she cannot be killed, but in the sense that she knows with absolute certainty that it is true. An ability inherited from her maman who must have in turn inherited from another ancestor although she cannot pinpoint who. Paper cuts disappear in seconds, even near fatal wounds take a matter of hours to heal and the ways she has been able to manipulate her aging are nothing short of miraculous.

There was even a point in her life when she managed to heal another living being. When she had been a young girl, she’d had a pet. He had been a blue-eyed mutt who looked strangely like a wolf despite being comfortable in a tropical climate, and even before she had healed him, Camille had called him Angel, as he had been fiercely protective of both her and her maman. One day in a drunken rage her father had tried to pick a fight with Catherine and Angel had lunged in between them only to be shot in the head.

When Camille had arrived home from a play date a little over an hour later, she had found her dead pet and clutched his lifeless body weeping bitterly, somehow managing to transfer some of her own magic into the dog’s body. Perhaps the most remarkable thing about all of this is that Angel hadn’t lived a normal dog lifespan after. Instead he had lived with her and Catherine for another twenty years before apparently escaping a locked gate in pursuit of a neighborhood cat while Camille was living in Paris.

The limp body lying on the ground before Camille isn’t that of a dog though, and after hours of working on it, no on him, she is dirty and exhausted and worst of all almost convinced it won’t work.

“I do not understand you universe!” Camille glares up at the setting sun as she cries out. “There are so many truly evil people who you let just go about their lives and yet you won’t let me save this one good man who has spent his entire life being hurt by those around him. Doesn’t he deserve to have something wonderful? Don’t I deserve to have him? I bought him all the way up Mount Esme, at great risk may I point out, so that I would not be interrupted and yet I am still unable to bring him back. Why is this?”

With an exhausted whimper Camille collapses against Richard’s body. He feels like stiff, cold clay, and she can scarcely bring herself to look at the face, even more colorless than his usual shade of pale. Worst of all is the wound on his chest that she has been forced to spend hours touching in an attempt to heal.

A rustling noise sounds from within the jungle and Camille feels herself sink even further. Some sort of scavenging predator must have been attracted by the scent of an easy meal. She hates the thought of having to fight to keep Richard whole, and she isn’t even sure she has the strength to do so. All of it has went into her seemingly failing task.

“Go away,” Camille yells at the noise, not even bothering to raise her head.

Suddenly the figure of a large dog emerges from the underbrush. Strangely wolf-like and even in the dim light she can see that the eyes are blue. Angel.

For a moment Camille fears that her beloved former pet has come to feast on Richard’s corpse, but then Angel tilts his head as if to ask, “Camille, what are you doing here?”

She feels compelled to answer in a way that she is sure a dog, even an immortal one, can’t understand. “I wanted to save him like I did with you, but I’m not sure I’m strong enough, and now I’m going to be all alone.”

Angel looks at her for a moment before walking over and nudging Richard’s hand as if to ask for pets. When this action fails to produce the desired result he lets out a huff and lies down with his head on Richard’s stomach looking up at his face as if to admonish him.

Despite her distress Camille can’t help but smile, and reach out with a tentative hand to stroke Angel’s fur. “Silly dog, you don’t understand any of this, do you?”

As hand meets fur over cold flesh something strange happens. Richard’s body begins to glow. Camille vaguely remembers seeing something similar when Angel had been the one lying prone.

Camille closes her eyes, still terrified of false hope even as Richard again grows soft and pliant next to her.

What feels like an eternity goes by and Camille feels hot, fresh tears prick at her cheeks. Despite what she had felt, it must have been false hope. Now is probably the moment she should accept that he is truly gone.

“I miss you Richard,” she hears herself cry out.

Suddenly a throat clears nearby followed by a polite humming and a man’s British accented voice, “Well that’s quite awkward considering you’re kind of lying on top of me.”

Camille opens her eyes and dares to look up at Richard’s face. He’s clearly confused, but he’s also alive. “You’re alive.”

“Yes, I suppose I am. Aren’t I supposed to be? I umm...am I allowed to ask about the wolf that is also lying on top of me?”

Camille had been so caught up in the beauty of seeing Richard that she had almost forgotten about Angel. Now, the dog tilts his head as if to ask, “What more do I have to do to get him to pet me?”

“Well, he’s not a wolf, and he wants you to pet him.”

As Richard reaches out a tentative hand to stroke Angel, Camille wonders how much she should tell him right away. He’s going to have to know it all eventually, but she doesn’t want to scare him. Yet she realizes she may not have a choice. Today she managed to burn several bridges that can’t be fixed. Stealing a corpse and a police vehicle, assaulting an officer, obstructing a criminal investigation, and if this hadn’t worked, desecration of a dead body would be added. Other than the assaulting Dwayne part, she’d do it all over again, but the point is she’s going to have to leave the island and reinvent herself and Richard will have to too.

“Please don’t hate me for what I’m about to tell you,” Camille whimpers.

Richard pauses and looks at her curiously. “Did something happen today Camille?”

“Yes, you were murdered today and a few minutes ago I bought you back to life.”

“That is the most bloody ridiculous thing I have ever heard,” Richard roars sitting up and managing to throw aside both Camille and Angel.

The dog immediately begins growling and Camille realizes that Richard will be bit if she doesn’t think fast enough.

“Richard, stop yelling at me!” Camille raises her own voice as she sits up partially and glares at him.

“Stop yelling? I’m yelling because you just told me the most bloody ridiculous thing ever!” Suddenly he stills and his voice becomes soft. “My god Camille I actually remember my own death. I even know who killed me, or at least who she was pretending to be...but if I died, how were you able to bring me back, and why?”

“I don’t think you’re ready for the how yet, but the why is that you’re a good, honest man and I don’t want to spend my life without you.”


	5. Island Boy

_ Now he tends bar at the Old Mango _

_ And he sees tourists come and go _

_ With their pressed pants and camera case _

_ Too much sun burned on their face _

_ Now he watches the snow on CNN _

_ With all of his dope-smokin' friends _

_ Just look at the hell they must be in _

_ Swears he won't go back again _

_ He's an island boy _

_ Now he's an island boy _

_ Living his life where stress is the enemy _

_ Now he's an island boy _

_ A stone's throw from St. Croix _

_ He's finally found his piece of serenity _

_ You know the love of his life has always been Emily _

_ She loves the man she sees _

_ In her island boy _

  
  


-

The man approa ching the bar is just too pressed to really be on vacation. His pants are still neatly starched and his polo shirt looks too stiff to even move in, but worst of all is the sunburn covering his face, and his wife barely looks better. 

Richard tries not to find the pair too ridiculous. The little routine they go through is predictable though. They immediately sniff out that the bartender is a fellow Brit and when they approach him they begin with the usual questions about how he got here and assumptions that he wants to know about British weather. 

The past Richard would have wanted to know everything about the snow and sleet, but the man of the present day just manages to show polite interest.

It’s been five years since he gave up being DI in favor of tending bar. Shortly after him and Camille had gotten married, Catherine had been diagnosed with cancer. Thankfully it had been in the early stages and easily treatable, but Camille had wanted her mother to only have to focus on recovery. So she had decided to quit working as DS and take over her mother’s bar. She hadn’t told her husband he had to quit his job too, but he had in a way felt obligated. He had been scared that he’d do it wrong though, and for an entire week they had fought viciously. Finally, Dwayne had tricked them into spending an afternoon locked in a cell together, forcing them to talk things out and quite possibly saving their marriage in the process. In time, Catherine had thankfully recovered, but by that time Richard had realized he actually liked tending bar.

As the British couple finishes with their talk of weather, bad tea and spicy food Richard politely waves them away before turning to look at his wife at the other end of the bar. She doesn’t notice him right away, and for a moment he simply watches her. She’s wearing a brightly patterned maxi dress and her dark hair is tied back into a neat bun. There is a realistic looking fake English Rose woven into her hair and Richard can’t help but smile as he thinks about how she has stated she wears it for him.

“That is only served to my husband,” Camille states to her customer and Richard can’t help but wrinkle his nose in confusion as the man sulks away from the bar. After a moment Camille states, “You know, it’s not polite to stare.”

Before Richard can apologize, Camille has turned and is walking towards him. She isn’t angry though, and she is smiling.

“So what was that about?” Richard can’t help but ask.

“He was trying to get up my skirt.”

“Oh, eww.” 

Before Richard can decide if he needs to clarify what his disgust is over, Camille states, “I know. He was not as good looking as he thought he was.”

“And you’re married,” Richard teases, throwing an arm over her shoulder.

“Yes, that too. What did your customers want?”

“Well, they didn’t want to get up my skirt.”

At this Camille bursts out laughing. In the earliest days of knowing her, this would have irritated him to no end. He would have seen it as her laughing because she saw him as a joke overall, but today he had been trying to make her laugh in hopes that it will take her mind off the disgusting customer.

“They wanted to tell me about how there is a blizzard in Leeds.”

“A blizzard?” Camille has finally partially composed herself and wipes her eyes as she speaks.

“Yep. That’s when a very large amount of snow falls from the sky very quickly. Generally doesn’t happen in the Caribbean.” Richard puts on a tone of false teaching and Camille loses it again, this time leaning against his shoulder as she does so, causing him to rub slow circles on her back until she calms.

As soon as she has once again stilled she looks up at him and asks seriously, “Do you ever miss it?”

“Huh?”

“When you first arrived here you would constantly complain about how much you missed the miserable weather and how wrong it was that nothing changes here.”

“Oh god, was it really constantly?”

“Daily.”

Richard can’t help but grimace as he thinks about how frustrating his nonstop complaining must have been to hear, but he does feel as if he has to answer her question. “I believe I can survive quite well without the feeling of cold rain pelting my face and soaking through my shoes. I would like us to take a summer trip at some point though. Maybe rent a caravan, do a little boring sightseeing where we don’t have to constantly talk to people. A bit like a second honeymoon perhaps?”

“Mhmm, I think I’d like that.” Camille leans over to kiss him before pulling away, “but right now we both have a long line of customers.”


End file.
